


Glyphs

by DeathBySegwayScooter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandoned Areas, Gen, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Unknown Language, creepypasta-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 08:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29623320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBySegwayScooter/pseuds/DeathBySegwayScooter
Summary: Everyone is born with their soulmate's first words written on their arms. You just wish you could read yours.
Kudos: 2





	Glyphs

Everyone is born with a soulmate mark. The mark consists of the first words one's soulmate will say to them, usually on one of their forearms. The words usually start out grey or black, but change to a different color once the words are said.

You wish you could read yours.

It's not because it's written in a language you don't speak. Everyone else's marks are perfectly legible, but yours looks like an ugly scribble down your right arm. It doesn't match any known language, not even the undeciphered ones like Rongorongo or whatever's in the Voynich Manuscripts. Linguists are often fascinated by your mark, but none of them have been able to successfully translate it. Is it some sort of extraterrestrial language? Is it even a language at all?

Others are spooked by your mark, claiming it's written in demonic runes. You must admit, it _does_ hurt your eyes after you look at it for too long.

Eventually, you give up trying to read your mark and move on with life. You rarely pay it any mind until one moonless night. You are driving home from work. There was an accident in the middle of the highway, and you are forced to take a detour through a side street that goes through a forest. Halfway down the road, your car breaks down. None of your tires are flat, and your gas tank is mostly full. Nevertheless, your car loses power and you're forced to pull over. Must be the alternator. You bring out your phone to call a tow truck, but there is no signal out here.

It would be the perfect setting for a horror movie, except for one thing: there is a gas station only a few blocks from you. You can even see it from here. So you think nothing about leaving your car and walking over there.

As you walk down the shoulder, the trees give way to a clearing of tall grass. The grass gives way to a large, barren patch of land. There's an ancient, weather-beaten FOR SALE sign next to it. One side has fallen off of its nails, and now stands there diagonally. It's been that way for decades; you don't know if the real estate agency is even still in business. It's a small wonder why they never sold this patch of land, however. It always did have an eerie vibe. Especially now.

You speed up your pace so you can get away from this place faster. You thought you heard a tiny whistle, but you figure it's just the wind.

You walk a few feet when you hear the mumbling. You stop in your tracks and look around. Is someone there? You don't see anybody, not even any animals. But of course, it's very dark; who knows what's out there? You start walking again, really wanting to get to that gas station.

The mumbling continues. It starts to increase in volume until it is conversation levels of loudness. It sounds like multiple people are talking. You try to listen, but you can't tell exactly what they're saying. Maybe it's not in your native language? You tell yourself it must be someone's radio at the gas station, but...it doesn't seem to be coming from there. It doesn't seem to be coming from anywhere.

As you come upon the edge of the wasteland, the voice rise until they are shouts. It's definitely not any language that you know of; you can't pick out a single word. It's multiple voices of varying pitches muttering over each other with inhuman chips, hisses, and rattles. It comes from all directions, yet there is not a soul around. It instantly stops once you reach the grass.

Your right arm burns and itches. You stop to look at it in the floodlights of the gas station.

The "words" on your arm have changed color.


End file.
